Tag Archives: support

Last year I wrote about ‘The Chicken”. If you don’t want to click back, I will make it short. When you live in a close-knit community and find yourself in times of need, people come out in a big way.

We tend to like to feed. I think outside the comfort piece, the idea of removing the hassle of the nightly meal for a family that already has too much on its proverbial plate makes sending in dinners seem like the right thing to do.

So basically, you love to make the chicken… receiving the chicken? Not so much.

This week we had two families in one close group of friends in need… of ‘chicken’. All I can say is that I sent out one email and within 24 hours there were six nightly home-cooked meals and a waiting list for one family and a Magic Bullet smoothie maker for the other, who for health reasons needed to puree, so to speak.

24 hours.

AND there were calls from more who wanted to help and text chains and emails and such an overwhelming sense of what community is, that it took my breath away… yet again. I never cease to stand in awe of what this means; how lucky we all to have each other; to try to imagine what my life would be like without this.

I cannot.

To have 2 dear friends in surgery on the same day is quite unnerving. There is not enough chicken in the universe that makes you feel like you are doing enough to ease the pain.

Until you stop an realize that you can’t. You can only love them. And their spouses. And their amazing kids and even their dogs. And be there for them the best way you know how when they get to the other side. Because they are the family you choose.

I am happy to report that both are doing as well as they can. And we want to let them both know:

Like this:

I have proven that I can have fun just about anywhere. Today it was in the drug store while shopping for a get well gift. Joyce, my sometimes MFTA by proxy was delighted to partake in the shoot.

I am always amazed at the terrible packaging in the section with the braces and bandages. This item struck me immediately. First, I have been pregnant twice and honestly, I am so very thankful that no one ever prescribed the Comfy Cradle for me. I mean, it is not like it did not get to be a chore around the 8th or 9th month, but I never had the need to use apparatus to hold up my babies. I like that 17 years later this item makes me feel grateful for that fact.

With all due respect to the product, because I am sure there are many that get major relief from this sucker, but they really need to take a look at updating their packaging. Where should I start? Ok, Starwars light sabre background, not all that contemporary. Hairstyle? Quite popular towards the beginning of the 80s, now, not so much. Low cut leotard? Just don’t get that.

But the thing about this package that gives this today’s Magnet For the Absurd award is the healthcare worker in the top left corner. Am I mistaken, or is she holding a 3 month old? Seriously, if that is the size baby this woman is carrying, no wonder she needs the Comfy Cradle. This kid looks like it came out ready to eat solid food for G-d’s sake!

So, Scott Specialties, Inc., you may want to consider a redesign. Give me a shout, I can spin my Art Direction skills and whip you up a wonderful new line of packaging. And since I clicked over to your website, we can help you out with that as well.

There are times in our lives when we are profoundly touched by another person even though we have never met them. Sadly, sometimes they are already gone and we have lost the opportunity.

I have a friend in my community who I am very fond of. We do not know each other all that well but have been friends for a long time and our husbands are btff (best tennis friends forever). She and her family emanate an infectious warmth and hospitality. Being in their home one feels instantly comfortable and engaged. Their circle of friends is equally embracing. We always leave their house feeling as if we have had a full experience. Does that make sense? I hope so.

This past weekend we attended a memorial service for her mom who passed away suddenly last month. This particular congregation has a beautiful custom of creating a booklet of readings for its life cycle events. Friends and family members read from this booklet and helped paint a picture of this vibrant woman.

During the service my friend spoke about the mom she had lost. Theirs was a tender relationship, one that every mother and daughter hopes to have. Her loss was very painful to witness, yet being there I felt the greatest honor she could give her mother was to share who she was with those who did not know her.

She told a story about going back to her mom’s home to sort through the pieces of her life. The most precious things she found were two post-it notes. Her mom had a habit of scribbling down thoughts and sticking them around her home. (a woman after my own heart as I have a bulletin board filled with such things over my desk). One of the notes said it all for me:

You don’t know and I don’t know.

How perfect is that? Pretty much says it all. We can worry and ruminate. We can plan and organize. We can strive and learn and try to control it all. But in the end, you don’t know and I don’t know.

I am sorry I never had the pleasure to meet this fine woman, but in some ways I suppose I have.

To my dear friend, may your grief be tempered with the knowledge that you were loved fully by a mother who adored you. And may your wonderful boys, or shall I say young men, give you the strength and support you need during this terribly sad time.